


C.O.A. (Chosen Ones Anonymous)

by tahirire



Category: Eragon (2006), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Lord of the Rings (Movies), Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Humor, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-16
Updated: 2009-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-26 04:31:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tahirire/pseuds/tahirire





	C.O.A. (Chosen Ones Anonymous)

_Room 401, 5 pm. C.O.A. meeting, coffee and snacks provided._

The smiling woman calls from her straight-backed chair for the meeting to come to order. “Hello, everyone. I’d like to start by welcoming you all, and reminding you that this is a safe place. No one will condemn you here. Please feel free to share whatever is on your mind. Now, it seems we have a new member. Honey, would like to start?”

Sam clears his throat, feeling awkward. “Uh … hi.” He raises a hand in a half-hearted wave. “My name is Sam, I’m 25 years old, and I’m supposed to be the Antichrist. Maybe.” He blows out a sigh, raising his eyes to gauge the group’s reaction. “We don’t really know for sure.”

They stare back steadily, waiting. Sam rolls his shoulders. “Anyway, me’n my brother – Dean - we’re fighting this war, and … I just really needed some support from … y’know, well – others. Other people like … me.” He sits, glad to be done for the moment.

The gathered group echoes back the greeting like they’ve done this hundreds of times. “Hi, Sam!”

The group leader nods happily. “Thank you, Sam. You are most welcome here. Now, why don’t the rest of you introduce yourselves?”

 

~*~

 

 _The office building lobby, 5 pm, no food to be seen._

Dean fidgets, restless. So he wanted Sam to talk to _someone_ , even if it wasn’t him, and yeah, OK, this was his idea, but he never agreed to sit here (like an idiot) and wait. For one thing, he’s not sure about these other kids, and for another thing, there’s a dude with a seriously wicked looking … hammer? Yeah, a hammer – staring at him with an appraising expression.

Dean leans back into the plush waiting room chair just enough for his jacket to fall open on the right. He nods at Hammer dude, trying to project coolness. ”Hey.”

It becomes clear right away that the grip of Dean’s .45 making an appearance has the desired effect. Hammer dude’s whole face lights up like he just saw the Christmas ham, and he leans forward in his seat with an almost savage grin of appreciation. “Greetings.” He says.

Dean smiles. OK, so maybe this dude has taste. “Nice hammer.”

The kid – and Dean is just now seeing that he is a kid – maybe about Sam’s age, grins. “Indeed.” He pauses like he’s weighing his options. He settles for trust, because he holds out his hand. “I am called Roran.”

Kid’s got a weird accent, but he’s good people, Dean can tell. “Dean Winchester,” he responds.

They shake.

 

~*~

 

 _Room 401, 5:05 pm, Introductions_

A skinny dark haired kid that Sam secretly thinks could use a haircut goes first, sounding rather bored. “I’m Harry, and a dark wizard killed my parents, but not me. Now I have to kill him before he kills everyone, but I’m pretty sure if I kill him, I’ll die, too. Oh, and my scar itches sometimes. Awful stuff.”

The moderator smiles, glancing up from her notes. “Welcome back, Harry. Who would like to be next?”

A really _short_ dark haired kid that could use a pair of shoes shifts in his seat and speaks quietly, looking at the ground. “My name is Frodo Baggins. My uncle left me a ring cursed by a dark lord, and I must destroy it to save the Shire.”

Sam’s inner hunter perks up right away, and he tilts his head towards Frodo. “It’s cursed? Like how?”

Frodo seems tired, but he chooses his words thoughtfully. “Well, putting it on makes you invisible, but it also slowly destroys your soul. And it is addicting.”

Sam blinks, because he’s not sure what to say to that. “… oh.”

Frodo smiles, fixing Sam with a strangely fond gaze. “I’m glad you’ve joined us, Sam. I happen to know that persons named Sam are of the highest caliber, both in loyalty and honor.”

Sam resists the urge to squirm. “Uh … thanks.”

 

~*~

 

 _The office building lobby, 5:10 pm, beside the water fountain._

“And then I cleaved its skull in _two_ , like _this_.” Roran swings the hammer up and down with impressive force, and Dean bites back a chuckle at the look on the redheaded kid’s face. It’s … a little pale.

“Bloody Hell.”

Dean flinches, and _dammit_. “Ron! I’ll give you – well, I won’t kill you if you stop saying frigging _Hell_ every two seconds. How’s that sound?” Kid goes even paler. Psh. Whatever. Kid’s clearly got no spine.

Dean turns back to Roran, because, yeah, _there’s_ a guy he wouldn’t mind having as backup. Anytime. “Gotta hand it to ya dude, that’s pretty awesome. But I can top it.”

Sam – and Dean can’t get used to that, seriously, because he even _looks_ like Sam, only if Sam was a _midget_ with a _beer gut_ – groans. “I’d much prefer if you didn’t, if you don’t mind, Mr. Winchester. Talk of blood and bone always unsettles my stomach.”

Dean rolls his eyes and resists the urge to ruffle the little dude’s hair. “Stop calling me Mr. Winchester. It’s Dean.” Hello, speaking of stomachs that aren’t exactly settled …

“I could really go for a steak right about now.”

 

~*~

 

 _Room 401, 5:15 pm, Introductions_

There’s no chance that Sam would ever mistake the next speaker for a human. His eyes glitter as he speaks, and his soft hair falls in short waves around his pointed ears. He’s young, younger than Sam, even. Sam finds himself listening intently to his story.

“I am called Eragon Shadeslayer, or sometimes _Argetlam_. I used to be a human, but I was chosen by the great dragon Saphira to be her Rider, and the elves have transformed me. I must wield sword and magic against the evil king Galbatorix to save all of Alaglasia from destruction.” Eragon pauses, sorrowful. “I am immortal now, but the Princess I desire does not wish to be my bride. It distresses me.”

Sam’s brain doesn’t make it all the way through to ‘girl trouble’, he’s stuck on something else. “You use magic?”

“Yes.” Comes the simple reply.

Sam hesitates, thinking of the feeling of the rush he gets, the way the night is seductive when it calls his name. “It doesn’t … have consequences?”

Across the circle, Harry laughs. “Not unless you’re daft. Well, or unless you’re Hagrid, but still – if you focus, and get all the words right, you can learn any spell. ”

Eragon shoots Harry a sidelong glare as if to silence him. “Using magic can hold _terrible_ consequences – but they are easily avoided with practice and care.”

Sam thinks of long nights alone, of pain and guilt and gritty determination. “Yeah, practice.”

Eragon gazes intently at Sam, and for a long moment, Sam feels connected to him, somehow. Finally the younger boy breaks the silence. “I sense that you are troubled, Sam. Perhaps it is not the same for you as it is for myself.”

The moderator shifts forward in her seat, pencil poised over her clipboard. “Would you like to talk about your powers, Sam?”

Frodo sighs and throws his head back in his chair, studies the ceiling. “I’ll just go and get a pint then.”

 

~*~

 

 _The office building lobby, 5:20 pm, on the floor near the chairs._

Ron is whining again. “It’s bad enough he’s the _chosen one_. I mean, all the girls fancy him! Us normal guys don’t stand a chance! And don’t even get me started on collateral damage. He’s my mate, but he’s landed me in the medical wing one too many times.”

Heh. Kid has no idea.

Roran looks wistful. “At least you can fight alongside him if you so choose. My cousin’s destiny far outmarks my own, I am afraid.”

Sam _wise_ , who Dean has automatically starting thinking of by his _entire_ given first name – just to stay sane – pipes up with determination. “Just because someone has a job to do all by themselves don’t mean you can’t help them do it. That’s my thinking.”

Dean nods in rueful agreeance. “Screw destiny.”

Roran makes a sound that gets stuck somewhere between a snort and laugh. “Indeed.”

Dean makes an executive decision. “And screw this. Who’s hungry?”

 

~*~

 

 _Room 401, 5:30 pm, Share Time_

The moderator’s gentle voice floats across the room. “I think what’s really upsetting you, is that –“

Sam rubs his forehead in frustration, he can’t stop the retort from escaping his lips. “Heaven doesn’t want me, and Hell’s afraid I’ll take over?”

Eragon nods. “We are all outcasts of some kind, Sam, all orphans. You must stay true to what you know is right in your heart, and I must do the same.”

Frodo sits up a little straighter, now that he can relate to the topic again. “He speaks the truth. We all have burdens to bear; we all face death at the end of our road.”

Sam shakes his head. “No, you don’t understand. It’s - I just wish I could do it alone. I’m tired of people dying for me.”

Harry nods knowingly. “You want to make the sacrifice yourself.”

 _That._

Sam nods tightly. “Yes.”

Frodo smiles sadly. “It is not your decision to make, Sam. Your fellowship stays at your side because they choose it.”

Harry’s grin echoes the twist Sam feels in his gut. “Besides, try leaving them behind and see what happens,” says the wizard.

Sam’s fingers come up to rub absently across the wide red scar on his right forearm, and he smiles and thinks that yeah, maybe these guys know what’s going on after all.

 

~*~

 

 _The alley down the street, 6 pm, beer and nachos ganked from a nearby Circle K._

Dean is actually in awe of just how ADD Roran is as he watches the kid restlessly swing his hammer. “How long can they possibly converse? Surely they have reached some level of understanding by now!”

“Oh, Mr. Frodo’s not much for talkin’- he gets lost in himself, like. But he listens well, he does, and my old Gaffer used to say …”

Dean rolls his eyes, because seriously, he’s never even met the guy and he already knows what he’d say about everything. “Sammy’s got enough emo to keep that meeting going ‘til _dawn_ ,” he interrupts. “Seriously, he practically talks for a living.” He takes a sip of his beer before remembering another important point. Raising his eyebrows meaningfully, he adds, “ _AND_ he was going to be a lawyer.”

The entire group groans.

“That tears it.” Ron sighs, reaching for a beer.

Samwise glances at the clock. “I do hope that’s not the way, Mr. Win – uh, Dean. We don’t have a terrible lot in the way of funds, if you get my meaning.”

Well, crap. Dean forgot about therapists getting paid by the hour. Whose idea was this, again?

Ron scoffs. “Harry’s _rich_.”

Roran sighs. “Eragon has _sponsors_.”

Dean smirks, rummaging through his wallet. Bingo. “Helloo, Mr. Mcgillicuddy.”

 

~*~

 

 _Lobby, 7 pm, milling around the chairs._

Dean stands up quickly - but not too quickly, it’s not like he _missed_ Sam or anything, for cryin’ out loud - when the doors open, surprised at the sudden tightness in his stomach. If this was a bad idea, if Sam didn’t have a good session – but when the several young men come piling out, his brother is smiling.

Dean freezes for a minute, because _damn_ , it’s been so long since that kid –

“Ok, thanks again, yeah, next time …“Sam hurries through his goodbyes, catching his brother’s gaze through the crowd. All around them, as the friends and relatives reunite, the air of expectant tension in the room vanishes.

Sam cuts through the crowd smoothly and grabs Dean by the shoulder.

“Sammy, you OK?”

“Yeah.” Sam grins, and he looks younger than he has in a long time. “Do me a favor?”

Dean frowns. “Sure dude, anything.”

“Get me out of here?”

Dean laughs and lets Sam pull him towards the door.

 

~*~

 

 _Motel, 10 pm, settled into bed after pizza, wings, 2 subs, a two-liter of Coke and a 6-pack of beer._

Dean sighs and flips off the T.V., plunging their room into total darkness. Across the room, Sam is already curled up in his covers, and Dean’s not worried about whether or not he’ll still be there in the morning for the first time in months, and he feels this stupid grin on his face, but hey, it’s dark, so. Whatever.

“Dean?”

“Yeah.”

Sam half sits up in his bed, and Dean can barely make out his outline in the dark, but he’s looking intently into the palm of his hand, and Dean thinks he might see the glint of something small and metal there.

“Tomorrow,” Sam yawns, tucking the item away, “we’ve got a ring to un-curse.”


End file.
